By Looi Ee Xin (26S03M)

Spoiler Alert!  

When IU, Lee Ji-Eun, was announced to be playing the leading character of a drama, I was incredibly psyched about it for 2 reasons: One, being that I was a big IU fan and two, it would be her return to the silver screen after 6 years. After Park Bogum was casted as the male lead alongside IU, the cast instantly became the most compelling reason for me to tune in to the drama.

After sitting through 16 episodes, bringing me through 4 seasons and 3 generations of characters, I have concluded that this drama is a masterpiece in the illustration of human relationships and their beauty.

I would love to sit here and break down each episode in detail with you, the reader, but we would be here for an hour if I tried to. Instead, I will settle for a list of lessons I learned from “When Life Gives You Tangerines” — and what better way to start off by analysing the title of the drama?  

Synopsis

Readers like me might find the title “When Life Gives You Tangerines” to have no relation whatsoever to a story marketed as “a tribute to our parents’ tender and still youthful seasons when they were so young”, as tangerines don’t appear to be a focal point of the story. However, there lies intention behind the title, starting with the usage of tangerines whereby tangerines are the representative fruit of Jeju. 

The drama centres its story around generations of families who grew up in Jeju, a province in Korea, before the later generations move to Seoul. As a homage to the families who stayed in Jeju, “when life gives you tangerines” directly translates to “here’s to all you have been through” when spoken in the Jeju dialect. 

Now, it might still not make sense here, but it comes together right at the end where Ae-Sun (Lee Ji-Eun) addresses her then late husband Gwan-Sik (Park Bo-Gum) in her autobiography with this one line. It was not simply “I love you” but rather…

Love : Gwang-Rye to Ae-Sun

With the oversaturation of sugary romance dramas these past few years, this drama was a breath of fresh air, proving that romance does not always have to be centred around cheesy dates and romantic moments. Throughout this drama, I found that the scriptwriters did well to convey the love a parent has for a child and vice versa, having found traces of my relationship with my mum throughout the story.  

Gwang-Rye (Yeom Hye-Ran), Ae-Sun’s mother, was a haenyeo ¹[해녀 – woman who freedived to harvest for seafood as the main breadwinner of the family] who worked hard at sea to provide a livelihood for her daughter whom she treasured so deeply, even when she only really got to see Ae-Sun at night.

Although not well-educated, Gwang-Rye refused to have Ae-Sun be a haenyeo like her, where she would have to put her life at risk for a living. It was Gwang-Rye who constantly reminded Ae-Sun to stand on her own two feet, to never settle for less, which moulded Ae-Sun into a girl with big dreams, unusual for girls of her age in the village.  

When Ae-Sun had to settle for vice president of her class even after winning 8 more votes than a boy in her class simply because his father had funded the class with food, she had a taste of what it meant to lose to nepotism. Ae-Sun went home, frustrated at losing out on the position of president, something that was supposed to have been hers. Gwang-Rye only sat by in silence, unable to pitch in much except for an occasional word of comfort. Later, Gwang-Rye would dress her best to humble herself in front of the teacher, just to plead a word.  

“Please take good care of my daughter”  

Ironic as it was, she did not want her daughter to be treated unfairly even when she could not provide the level of comfort and honour that other parents could. It reminded me of my mother, who often told me to swallow failures even when they were unfair and learn from them, but would go behind my back to tell teachers to take care of me, back when I was in primary school. I only found out what she did years later.

As much as my mother loved me, it broke my heart to know that she was often frustrated when she did not have the capacity to help me at times. To me, it was a love that was more than I deserved, something I did not fully appreciate when I was young.

“Parents dwell on what they couldn’t give, children dwell on what they couldn’t get.” 

In a world where adults would often tell you to settle for less and appreciate it, Ae-Sun did the same, convincing herself that being vice president would be enough. At that moment, something in Gwang-Rye snapped. She did not want her daughter to internalize the idea of settling for anything lesser than she deserved.

“I am the poor one, not you. Don’t hang back. Live your life to the fullest.”  

 Oh, how I wish there were more Gwang-Rye’s in the world.

Three simple lines, yet they hold such power. Gwang-Rye did not want her life to make her daughter feel any lesser, to make it seem like Ae-Sun was destined to settle for less. My mother was the same— whenever I would tell her that I was okay with something she knew I did not want, she would slap me awake. She would say:  

“It’s their loss, not yours. There’s something destined for you out there, something greater.” 

What simple words again that transcend the silver screen to life. Growing up, it was those few words that built in me the courage to dream big, to not let failure hold me back. Let this be a reminder to all, that when people tell you to be comfortable with any less than you want, don’t let it hold you back. Prove them wrong.  

Love : Ae-Sun to Geum-Myeong

Gwang-Rye’s love for her daughter passed on to Ae-Sun, who passed it on to Geum-Myeong, her own daughter. All loved their daughter so deeply, choosing to sacrifice something so that their child could reach horizons that they could not. 

Living with her in-laws, Ae-Sun faced much prejudice from Gwan-Sik’s grandmother, who insisted that Ae-Sun work as a homemaker. Geum-Myeong was to follow in her grandma’s footsteps, to be a haenyeo, the breadwinner of the house. In her eyes, a woman was only fit to set the table, to labour for the house while the man rested. Ae-Sun came home to find a young Geum-Myeong made to sit next to an altar, seemingly destined to be a breadwinner.  

“She’s my daughter, not the breadwinner of the house.” 

Flipping over the table that was set out in front of Geum-myeong, Ae-Sun’s outburst of anger at that moment was an expression of indignance, of anger out of such love for her daughter. No matter how helpless she was at that moment against her in-laws, love in that moment was a mother refusing to let her daughter live like a maid.

I am not foreign to the concept of the idea of a woman being made much lesser than a man, having grown up in a household where my father’s side of the family often emphasised that very mindset. Did my mother feel helpless when I was passed around as a baby in the arms of many elders under a roof where that mindset had been deeply engraved? Was she frustrated when she had to see her daughters being made into dolls amidst a sea of male cousins years younger than them? I wonder, even as my mother recalls of the incident. 

“Not my daughter, no.”  

I am pretty sure that was what went through her mind. Just like it went through Ae-Sun’s in that moment. In all these small moments, it was a motherly love, from mother to daughter, the wish that one would do better than she had.  

Years later, Geum-Myeong would become the first of the family to take a plane to Seoul to attend university, something that had been a dream of Ae-Sun’s. A bold dream from a daughter of a haenyeo that had been passed down had taken flight.  

“My mother passed her dreams onto me.”  

Indeed, she did. For Gwang-Rye swam deep under the sea, unwilling to deprive Ae-Sun of a decent childhood just so Ae-Sun could grow up on solid ground and run far, to provide the wings for her daughter, Geum-Myeong, to fly and soar amidst the clouds.

A love so deep that they gave it their all to watch their daughter go farther than they ever could — that is the love that touches the heart, love that is embedded deep in the heart, love that my mother had for me. It’s a love I never saw outwardly all the time, but a love that persevered to the very end through many generations.  

There are so many ways to describe love, but this is how I want it to be. 

“I was mad at my mom for being poor. I was mad because I knew I was the reason.”   

That sounds just like love. 

Loss 

What is love if not loss?  

“When Life Gives you Tangerines” wouldn’t be the same if loss and grief did not occur. Loss is a heavy topic to discuss, and a hard lesson to learn.  

Ae-Sun and Gwan-Sik lost their youngest son, Dong-Myeong, to a disaster, which left a family that was ready to enjoy life to its fullest, reeling from the shock. 

“When your parents die, you let them go into the afterlife. But when your children die, you keep them alive in your heart.” 

For once, the couple that had been open to each other from the very start could not hold a conversation because it was too painful to bring up. Both let the grief settle in one corner of their hearts, leaving it to one side until they felt alright to talk about it.

Leave the grief alone, if it gets you through life. There’s no rush in forcing it all out at one go. Let it settle slowly and face it when the time feels ripe. With Ae-Sun & Gwan-Sik, that only arrived decades later, while sitting at Dong-Myeong’s grave.  

After the loss of Dong-Myeong, Ae-Sun and Gwan-Sik could not bring themselves to do much. Ae-Sun felt helpless and lost as she stared at her remaining 2 children. He could not go out to sea to bring food back on the table, she could not bring herself to make food at times.

That’s what loss does at times, and what processing grief may look like. It can leave us empty inside. Amid the loss of their son, Ae-Sun and Gwan-Sik picked themselves up, buried the loss in their heart and went along with it.

They were not alone though; Ae-Sun & Gwan-Sik were secretly helped out by the people in the village. The first catch of the day would mysteriously appear on the tabletop. The rice pot was never left barren, filled up to just the right amount for a family of 4 everyday. 

“Go together, with others. If you do, 100 miles will feel like ten.”

Life 

“Life goes on and on.” 

This is what Gwang-Rye tells Ae-Sun, who tells it to Geum-Myeong. Often, life sets us back to uncomfortable places, places that are painful. The same goes for all of them. Instead of showing us an artificial, painted life that many dramas constantly choose to depict, this drama chooses to present life authentically.  

The good, Ae-Sun finally finishing her to-do list by publishing her poetry book. 

The bad, Geum-Myeong’s conflicting anger and sadness when she had to break up her engagement with her first love. 

But more often, the sad, when Gwan-Sik passed, left Ae-Sun alone to grapple with the gaping hole left by him.  

Whenever I think of how life has thrown me the awfulest of awful things to happen, I don’t feel angry, but rather betrayed, at the unfairness of life. After Ae-Sun was left alone after the passing of Gwan-Sik, she was lost in life, without her one constant factor, Gwan-Sik. It was the first time since she was 6 that Gwan-Sik wasn’t there for her. Yet life went on still. Pick yourself up — you might never face it, and that is fine. But move on. After all, 

“Life goes on for the living.”  

Then live. Live for the drama, live for all the right reasons, even if they lie in the unknown future. Right until the curtain falls.  

Afterthoughts 

“When Life Gives You Tangerines” could not have been brought to life without the superb acting of the entire cast, whom, I believe, all did their characters justice. A good script can tolerate subpar acting to make for a decent watch, but it needs good acting to truly convince watchers that the characters exist, somewhere out there at least.

I could write about Gwan-Sik’s love for Ae-Sun, Yeong-Beom’s love for Geum-Myeong and Chung-Seop’s love for Ae-Sun. I could write about the haenyeo’s love for Ae-Sun, about the familial bonds between the siblings, and still not be done talking about the beauty of this drama.  

Even if this story was about Geum-Myeong & Ae-Sun’s love story, romantic love was hardly the key point of the story. The bitterness & the sweetness of life, the familial bonds, and the friendship & camaraderie truly make this drama a delight to watch.

There’s much to love about this drama, and much to learn from the characters, but I dearly wish for everyone to remember this. Just like Gwang-Rye said to Ae-Sun, I now leave this with you.  

“One day, life might get so tough that you feel like you can’t go on. Don’t just lie still. Struggle with all your might. Paddle your arms and legs like crazy.  You’ll get through the dark waters and see the sky. Tell yourself you won’t die and must survive, no matter what. You’ll be able to breathe again.” ~  Gwang Rye to Ae-Sun